Forty Poets Wood

"It's scary out this evening," said the doormouse to the fawn,
who'd crept up to the house to munch on tulips from the lawn,
"On this wicked eve of Hallows, there is mischief in the air."
The little fawn kept munching like she didn't have a care.

"I live deep in the Black Wood," the fawn snorted with disdain,
"and there it's always scary, so stop being such a pain."
But as it grew close to midnight, doormouse whispered in fawn's ear,
"I hear the mutt is prowling, so you would be wise to fear."

The fawn nosed in the hedges, for the sweet sub-grasses there,
her nose down in the bushes and her hind up in the air,
and watching the fawn munching, doormouse felt a pang herself--
there was a killer muffin in the kitchen on the shelf.

Living in the Black Wood, food was plentiful as air,
but the perks of household living kept the doormouse staying there.
She only crept out now and then to tease the little fawn,
who'd munch the oats that grew beyond the fence across the lawn.

But suddenly there came a howl, it echoed through the night,
and everyone who heard the howl was frozen by their fright.
Maria Angelina dropped the bread that she was kneading.
Uncle Pervy in the bedroom dropped the book that he was reading.

Porters dropped their baggage, even liars stopped their lying,
swirls stood still in coffee cups and friars stopped their frying.
Trendy hippies held their tokes, champagne in grails stopped bubbling,
ferocious cats stopped chasing rats, the mutt's howl was so troubling.

"Don't just stand there, " yelled the mouse, "You've lost your little mind,"
and with a stalk of oats she lashed the fawn on her behind.
"Don't be afraid, you silly mouse, there's nothing can go wrong.
I studied with a wizard and I know a magic song."

"The mutt has come to eat you, it won't matter what you sing,"
the doormouse said, then ran to hide beneath a dragon's wing.
Then nosing through the laurels, the mutt strode onto the lawn,
drawn there by the musky scent of tender, little fawn.

But the mutt, he kept a'coming like he hadn't heard a sound.
He pounced upon the little fawn and drove her to the ground.
"This cannot be," the fawn cried out, "I have a magic charm!
The wizard said his magic song would shield me from all harm!"

The mutt gazed down his snout at her, his nose drew in her scent,
"What makes you think, you silly fawn, that harm is my intent?"
He took her gently in his mouth and carried her away.
What happened next, dear reader, is debated to this day.

The morning found the little fawn, contented at her play.
The mutt was curled up on a stone to sleep the day away.
The doormouse begged til sunset to know what had taken place.
The fawn just kept on munching oats, a big smile on her face.